On Second Thought
by MarigoldMusings
Summary: I don't know what this is. Well, yes I do. I wrote Truce with a specific idea in mind, and a specific timeline in my head. But there was a tiny snag. See my A/N. Two shot and probably nothing more. As much canon as possible. And also, I miss #Tuckson. I think that's really what this is about...
1. Chapter 1

_The story behind this two-shot is that I could never quite square the sequence of events in Truce with OMB's phone call in Forty-One Witnesses. Obviously, the caller was not a squad member and 2.0 continuity meant it wasn't someone completely out of the blue and the #Tuckson track had already been laid…but I don't think OMB's tone was of someone who had necessarily been laid by Tucker. The #Tuckson progression will probably forever remain a mystery, but here's another take. This one takes place during A Misunderstanding and Forty-One Witnesses, and the next one will be pre-Collateral Damages._

… _._

The expression on Dr. Lindstrom's face did not indicate complete confidence in Olivia's final plea, but he signed off nevertheless, she smiled, thanked him, and quickly sent text messages to both Dodds. The final hurdle had been cleared. Tomorrow morning, the Lieutenant would be back in her office.

She and Mike exchanged a few workaday messages, and just when she was shoving her phone back in her jacket pocket, it vibrated again, a little too quickly for the message to be another reply from her Sergeant.

The name "Ed Tucker" on the screen stopped her in her tracks, and an unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling caused her to briefly divert her eyes away from the phone. The street traffic—both pedestrian and automobile—was non-existent. The bright sunlight and blue sky were partially obscured by the brownstones, and Olivia shivered. The last time she'd seen Tucker was at the hospital a week ago. He'd offered to drive her home, but she went with Carisi and Dodds instead. Once inside the apartment and insisting she was fine, she shooed the two men and Lucy away and spent the rest of the night focused on Noah with the lights dimmed low, hoping he wouldn't notice or be too alarmed by her injuries.

That night, later on, Tucker called to check in, just to make sure she was okay, he didn't say "alone," but Olivia could tell he was concerned. But the consideration for her and Noah's well-being was not uttered in a doubtful way. Tucker wasn't questioning her ability to care for her son or for herself. He spoke as part friend and part former hostage negotiator, and his voice was soothing, comforting, and very much appreciated. When she finally laid her head on her pillow and closed her eyes, she did so expecting nightmares and another near-sleepless night.

But that didn't happen.

The next morning, she left Noah in Lucy's care and went straight to Internal Affairs where Sergeant Draper and another investigator Olivia had never met took her statement. She was recorded, but the interview, clearly pro forma, lasted only a few minutes and she returned directly home and gave Lucy the week off, knowing she wouldn't be allowed near the precinct any earlier. A day later, Tucker called her to relay the news. The call began as boilerplate as they come.

"Benson, it's Tucker," he barked into the phone, "Just wanted to let you know IAB isn't pursuing any further action related to, uh, the incident."

"As expected. Thank you."

They both breathed into their respective mouthpieces for a few awkward seconds. Neither she nor he wanted to end the call but they were both apprehensive about how to prolong it. Since giving her a heads up and practically forcing her to take the Lieutenant's exam, Tucker had become a reliable ally, confidant, and, yes, a friend. Occasionally meeting for coffee or drinks, always under the guise of police business, they discovered they had many shared experiences, challenges, and job-related heartaches. Olivia was pleased to find out that there was more to Ed Tucker than the contentious, one-dimensional IAB menace. She allowed him to see her sharp, smart sense of humor, and his dry humor induced multiple rounds of laughter-not the reserved, shy, restrained Olivia Benson laugh. It was the one where her shoulders shook and her eyes glazed over with jubilant tears, the laugh she typically wasn't comfortable using unless there was no one watching. It stunned him the first time he heard it. Most importantly though, he talked to her like an equal, and she seemed to let go of past grudges. They came to an unspoken agreement. This was a fresh start.

When he got the call that January afternoon, he instinctively knew what happened. He'd negotiated with men like this before. Desperate. Erratic. Embarrassingly indecisive for someone who had gotten himself into a life-and-death situation.

He seamlessly fell back into the negotiator role with one exception.

If everyone else hadn't been one-hundred percent focused on getting Lieutenant Benson out of there alive, they would have certainly, at some point, picked up on Tucker's torment. Or his desperation to resolve the situation peacefully. Or his attempt to retain control even after ESU took over. Never one to fall back on religion, he even sent up a silent prayer at the first sight of the quartet emerging from the garden level door. Children's lives were at stake as well, but he only saw the gun pointed at the back of Olivia's head. It was only the release of the children that distracted him, gave him something else to do, but then he fixated his thoughts and his gaze right back on her, wondering what she was thinking, knowing Joe's life was nearing its end and hoping he wasn't taking Olivia Benson with him.

Carisi nearly beat him to her after the sniper shot ended Utley's life. He and the younger man reached the Lieutenant in only a few strides, but Tucker got there first and held her close, one hand on her wrist the other around her waist, he felt the empty holster, her toned abdomen, and he didn't want to let her go. It was the closest their bodies had ever been. Though overcome by gratitude that her life had been spared, he was terribly disappointed when he had to let her go.

On the verge of feeling that vacant, hollow pit in his gut again, he broke the silence and invited her for lunch, then, thinking he'd overshot a little, added, "or coffee."

Citing the babysitter's class schedule, she agreed to coffee.

There was no avoiding the _incident_ , as he called it, and neither one of them attempted to do so. Seeing it as mostly a burden, Olivia lamented taking the required time off and insisted she was fine, but, on the bright side, she was intent on spending every moment with her son. Hearing this heartfelt admission, Ed apologized for wresting part of her day away from Noah, but she merely offered a sweet smile.

"It was good to get out and do something normal. Thank you."

"Happy to help," he replied with a smirk. "Lemme know if they try to jam you up about going back. I don't know what I can do, but, let me know anyway."

The smile lingered on her lips as they said their goodbyes. For a while, Tucker left her alone, let her spend her uninterrupted time with Noah. Olivia assumed the lack of contact was him courteously giving her space; however, she came to that conclusion while simultaneously realizing she missed him.

So, now, a week later, when she saw his name she became giddy and subsequently shocked by the giddiness. The shock turned into nervousness. The nervousness turned into indecision even though she knew exactly what she wanted.

She wanted to see him.

Perhaps to make up for the previous decision to opt for coffee, she suggested a drink this time and chose a bar they both knew well. To her relief, Tucker went about the conversation normally and neither treated her as a victim nor spoke tentatively; he didn't regard her as someone irrevocably damaged. Olivia did not let on where she'd just been, only revealing she was returning to work in a good frame of mind, an admission which was only partially true. As they spoke, fleeting instances of gloom clouded her brown eyes; the thought of leaving Noah pained her.

Sensing sadness, he switched to more mundane topics. "So, uh, back at it tomorrow. How's Dodds settling in?"

"It's going to take some time."

"Yeah."

They walked the final blocks to her building in relative silence, but the rush hour traffic hindered deep conversation. Before she went inside, he dared to pull her in for a hug. He intended it to be innocent and quick, but she prolonged the embrace, wrapping her arms around his shoulders tightly. Strands of brown hair whipped his face.

"Thank you again," she whispered.

"You're welcome," he responded, unsure whether she was talking about the negotiation or the coffee or something else. "You and Noah enjoy yourselves."

"We will."

...

The strangest thing happened in the rare instances of downtime on Friday and Saturday when Benson and the squad tackled their first major case of the year. While the squad and Barba waded through the murky details of the Roberts case, Benson found her thoughts drifting to Tucker, to the hug they shared, to his arm around her after they'd taken out Utley, to the subsequent moments when he told her to take care of herself first, and walked her to the car trying to calm both their nerves by repeating "it's all over" in the softest voice she'd ever heard him use.

Meanwhile, she was embroiled in the investigation of rape allegations against eighteen-year-old high school senior Chris Roberts. Whatever happened in the school darkroom was far from cut and dry. Rita Calhoun, who had last dealt with SVU as Carl Rudnick's counsel, had reversed roles and was representing the victim, but that wasn't the most perplexing aspect of the lawyer's presence. When Barba muttered "your friend Calhoun," a sudden surge of anxiety burned at the back of Benson's throat.

" _My friend_ ," she sighed sardonically.

Like a teenager she wondered how Rita would react if she knew Olivia and Tucker were...getting close.

 _No. Not getting close._ _It's nothing. He's just being nice_.

…

While late January and early February proved victorious for Barba and the Special Victims Unit, Benson resuming her command and two tough cases made it difficult for her to think about Ed Tucker. They exchanged a few texts, but he seemed to have the worst possible timing, suggesting coffee or drinks when she was either just getting home or exhausted or tangled in the intricacies of the investigations.

By the time the jury returned three guilty verdicts in the Libby Parker case, Olivia was exhausted. In an effort to outwardly prove she was fine, she went into overdrive at work and at home. Her Crown Vic wore a path between the precinct and her apartment, and she made a mental note to add a sizable bonus to Lucy's pay—not only was the young woman willing and able to accommodate her unpredictable schedule, she did so with her typical good humor. The other person in her life who, perhaps, was worthy of some form of compensation was Tucker—she scrolled through their texts. His were kind and genial. Hers were terse and polite. Rolling her eyes at herself, she poured a glass of wine and hit the telephone icon on the screen. He deserved to hear her voice, and she wanted to hear his.

" _Olivia_." If he was trying to hide that he was elated to hear from her, he did not do a very good job of concealment.

"Hey."

"Hey yourself. Saw on the news ya got the guilties. And also saw it was a, uh, unconventional conclusion."

Olivia let out a slight chuckle, "Yeah. Barba's quick on his feet and came through. Those verdicts are definitely to his credit."

"Seems like you gotta good ADA workin' with ya."

"He is."

"Whaddya up to?"

"Nothing at the moment. Got home not too long ago and it's nice to…just do nothing for a little while."

"Absolutely. Uh, hey, hang on a second." Olivia heard rustling and a thud and then Ed's voice. "Sorry. Had to plug in the phone."

"No problem."

"How's the little guy?"

"He's good," she reported as she refilled her glass, "He's sleepin' like a baby."

"And you? Got back in there pretty quick. Everything ok?

"Me? I'm fine. I took the mandatory time off, and, yes, I'm seeing my shrink."

Tucker hadn't asked about the shrink, and he didn't like the professionalism in her response. " Hey. Not what I was asking…uh…any chance I can bring over a nightcap?"

"Well, that does sound like more fun." She heard a faint groan. Deep down, she, too, was bummed out by her response, "Rain check?"

"Yeah, sure, listen, uh, I want to do dinner soon."

"Okay."

"Or whatever. Miss seein' ya."

"Okay…Me too."

He wished her goodnight and they said their goodbyes. With all conversations ended for the evening, she poured more wine and stared into the television set, processing the day, the past week, the past month. She heard Rollins' sanctimony as another sip of Chianti burned her throat. She saw Serena. Commiserated with her mother's demons while doing her best to bury her own. She held up the wine bottle assessing the remaining contents, poured a little more, and diverted her thoughts back to Tucker. Part of her regretted declining his offer regardless of the fact that it was the smart move. The proposition was made partially in jest anyway.

Wasn't it?

She turned her phone over and over in her hand, satiated by the smooth fiberglass. Her free hand came into contact with a random toy and her eyes drifted to the image of her son sleeping soundly with one arm over his head and the other at his side, the position indicating he was in his deepest slumber.

 _Someday I'll sleep like that._

The glass nearly empty for the third time, she emptied the bottle and carried her drink to her bedroom. Still fully clothed, she reclined on top of her covers and opened a novel she'd been meaning to finish for over two years. She read a few pages but quickly surrendered to her overactive brain and her vibrant memory.

Again, Tucker's face crept into her mind and she pictured him maybe, at this moment, doing the same thing. Maybe he was trying to not think about her, not think about whatever it was he had to do tomorrow, not think about what she was thinking about.

Picturing a rattled, unsettled Tucker caused Olivia's lips to curl into a slight smile and an important realization dawned on her.

There was no way she was rejecting another one of Ed Tucker's invitations.

….

 **#Tuckson.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Part Two**

 **(Between the phone call and Collateral Damages)**

The next morning, Rollins, Carisi, and Fin were reading newspaper coverage of the verdict at their desks while they sipped coffee and munched on day-old pastries that had been left in the break room. Fin took a bite of his, frowned at it, but continued eating.

"Anyone want the _Ledger_?" He asked, waving the paper above his head and then letting it fall when there were no takers. When Benson arrived he offered it to her, but she, too, declined. This one was over and she had no interest in what the tabloid journalists had to say.

In her office, she made coffee and poured what would probably be the first of multiple cups. Despite the wine, she had trouble falling asleep last night and Noah woke up earlier than usual. Fortunately, Dodds was on duty for the next two evenings, so she would be able to leave the precinct at a decent hour and have a couple of peaceful nights.

Time alone in the office did not last long. Fin popped his head in a few minutes later and reported, "Liv, we gotta problem."

"What is it?"

"Yates."

Olivia let out an exasperated groan. "What now?"

"Lawyer's on the phone," he nodded toward her desk.

She picked up and listened as the attorney explained Yates had information regarding unidentified remains found in Pelham Bay and wanted to "do the right thing" and help their families get closure. Yates preferred not to work through lawyers and suggested they send Detective Rollins to Green Haven to take his statement. Olivia scoffed at the request and told the attorney she would consider his claim and the evidence and follow up when she had the complete picture. She hung up and immediately got in touch with Hank Voight in Chicago. The officers discussed the case with skepticism, but Voight had open missing persons cases and decided to send Lindsay and Dawson to New York.

"They'll be there tomorrow," he grumbled.

…

Two days later and not having had the benefit of her anticipated time off, Benson looped Dodds in on the Yates case while Carisi and Rollins were on their way back from the upstate prison. Before they left, the warden approved the Honor Block transfer, Yates' reward for continued cooperation.

Olivia stared at Yates' most recent prison photograph. "Manipulative. Highly intelligent. And…evil. He is not to be trusted."

"So they just transfer him? With Rudnick there?"

Olivia scratched her forehead. "Warden's call. Whatever happens is on her…and we don't know the full history between the two of them. Prediction? One of 'em is going to end up in a body bag by the end of the month…and it will look like an accident."

Dodds twisted his lips. At this point there wasn't anything SVU could do other than be patient while Yates peeled back the layers of his crimes on his own time table, and Olivia had made it very clear she didn't want Rollins any more involved than she already was.

"What time do you want to leave tomorrow?" He asked.

Olivia rearranged papers on her desk, calculating travel time and her desired morning time with Noah. "Eight? That'll put us there mid-morning."

"Barba?"

"He has something going on and said he'll meet us there at some point."

"Good deal." He looked out into the empty squad room. "I'm, uh, going to run out and get some dinner. You should go home." He noticed Olivia's slightly raised eyebrows at the order and he clarified. "Unless…you want me to bring you something back?"

"No, no. I'm…" she tilted her phone and saw a text from Tucker that had been sitting unread since Dodds had been in her office, "I'm on my way out. See you in the morning."

Olivia was expecting the message to be more personal than it was. Tucker had merely inquired about how her day was going. After checking in with Lucy, she exchanged a few mundane texts with Tucker until, at the risk of pulling the trigger too soon, he sent:

 _Any chance I can cash in that rain check tonight?_

She almost typed _I thought you would never ask_ , but decided against the sass for the time being. She told him tonight worked out well since Lucy was planning to stay late anyway and her weekend would most likely be spent upstate or at the precinct with the Chicago detectives. This could be her only free night for a while.

The decided on a restaurant slightly more upscale than their typical haunts, but they took seats at the bar so there was less pressure to treat the evening as a "date." Tucker flushed a little when he saw her inch closer to him, their proximity close enough so their legs occasionally touched and, had they been farther along in their relationship, he could have easily rested his hand on her thigh.

More interested in drinking than eating, Olivia asked the bartender to give them a little time after she served them their second round. Ed listened as she lamented aspects of SVU's recent investigations. The Roberts case made her shudder at the prospect of raising Noah in his teenage years.

"I…I…" she waved her hands around as she spoke, movement became more frantic as she spoke more passionately, "I want to raise him…to become this kind, compassionate, caring young man, the same way the Roberts family tried to raise their son. But there's…no longer any room for error, especially when it comes to sex, especially when…"

Olivia continued but Tucker missed the next few words. Hearing her say "sex" was too distracting.

"…And I'm definitely not looking forward to whatever technology is the norm in ten, fifteen years. Being a parent just keeps getting more… _complicated_." Her words were pouring out in rapid succession now, leaving little room for Tucker to get a word in edgewise. "And then, these past two weeks, with the last one, all these people living in that building, at the café, on the street, saw this woman dragged along by three guys and not one of them did anything to help her. Not one. The _apathy_. It's disgusting. I don't want my son growing up thinking that attitude is normal. But it's almost…I wonder if it's a losing battle."

"It's not," Tucker interjected when she took a breath. "Kids get our values. And you…well, I'm sure Noah will become everything you want him to be." She bashfully ducked her head at the compliment and his own cheeks reddened as he uttered it. "And the nice thing, with a little one, ya get a clean slate…you can be excited about his potential."

"When he does something wrong or…acts like a _boy…_ it's so hard not to overreact…"

Ed smirked and replied, "Yeah, well, some people have an easier time not overreacting than others."

Clearly, he'd intended the remark to be self-deprecating and Olivia laughed, appreciating the humor, but also using the levity to dial back her emotions. She was so comfortable talking to him that she got carried away and had revealed a more private version of herself before she even realized what she was doing.

Olivia's shaky relationship history didn't make what was happening any less apparent. When she and Tucker were together, the chemistry was undeniable.

And it was intensifying.

He obviously cared about her, and she wasn't apprehensive about accepting the attention probably because he managed to show it without condescension. He approached their relationship with a unique sort of gallant patience…he was somehow able to allow Olivia to dictate the pace, let her come to him while simultaneously dropping hints that he, too, felt the attraction and wanted to pursue it.

These thoughts swirled in her head the whole way home. The check arrived, he swatted away her hand when she tried to grab it, and while they waited for his card, Tucker asked whether or not she had driven to the restaurant. When she said she had not, he offered to split a cab or walk her home. Since the restaurant was only a few blocks away from her apartment, they walked, and when they crossed Ninth Avenue and approached her building, she had already decided to invite him up for a nightcap.

"I think I have some bourbon…or maybe it's whiskey, something brown," she offered, trying to sound innocent and not divulge that she had bourbon and purchased it with this very scenario in mind. "Want to come up for one more?"

"Sure," he replied, shrugging his shoulders against the frigid February wind, hoping he didn't sound too excited. "Is, uh…do you want me to wait down here?"

"Of course not. C'mon."

So, Tucker met Lucy. Olivia introduced them without awkwardness and without explanation. Lucy took everything in stride and, as usual, updated Olivia on Noah-related news and promptly departed. Olivia retrieved the bottle and poured two generous portions.

"Have a seat," she gestured toward the sofa. Ed was eyeing the iPad baby monitor and didn't immediately move. "I…he's probably getting a little too old for that," she remarked, taking a sip and handing him his glass.

"Nah," he replied. "Good to have eyes on him."

"It is."

They sat down on opposite ends of the sofa. Ed had trouble holding up his end of the conversation because he was intrigued by at-home Olivia. She was still in her work clothes, but she kicked her boots off and sat with her legs tucked under her body, her elbow on the backrest, and her head cocked at an angle that for her was probably simply comfortable, but he found it irresistibly sexy.

"Two bedroom?" He asked, foolishly trying to calm himself down from the thrill of being in her apartment by asking about _bedrooms_.

"It is now," Olivia replied, "I had to lose a little space to create the second bedroom after Noah arrived."

"Nice that ya had the space to do that."

"I had a very creative contractor."

"Good to know people like that," he said, "My Dad had somebody for everything—heat, electric, elevator…he had a guy for it."

"Elevator guy?" Olivia asked with a laugh.

Tucker's cheeks reddened, "Well, maybe not an elevator guy, but you get the point."

They talked like this for well over an hour, trading stories, gripes, and perfect-world scenarios. Tucker was considerably more forthcoming about his earlier years; Olivia carefully chose anecdotes, almost as if she were reading from a script, but he didn't seem to notice her remarks were prearranged. Nevertheless, she enjoyed herself and was about to suggest a refill when her eye caught the clock.

"Hey, uh," she stared into her empty glass, "I really should think about getting some sleep."

"Oh. Yeah. Sorry, I didn't meant to drag this out."

Olivia screwed up her face, "It's not being _dragged out_ ," she explained, "I wouldn't mind dragging it out. It's just—"

Tucker recognized his poor choice of words, "No, sorry, that's not what I meant….I know ya have a long day tomorrow, I shoulda been more—"

She put a hand on his forearm. "It's fine."

He was in the foyer before he realized he forgot his coat. Olivia went to retrieve it from one of the kitchen chairs and, instead of handing it to him, she sort of draped it over his arm, giving him the opportunity to pull her close. He caught her eye and planted a kiss on her lips. It happened so quickly and so seamlessly that the gravity of the moment was momentarily lost on both of them. Their heads tilted away from one another. They exchanged coy partial smiles and leaned in once more. It was softer this time and their lips fused together for a split second longer before they broke apart. Only now, Ed felt her fingers on the back of his head and he went in for a third kiss. He began tentatively with his lips parted slightly but soon was slowly and tenderly swirling his tongue around hers, encouraged by her increasingly insistent touches and resisting the urge to completely devour her right there in the doorway. They paused, gasped for air, switched angles, and settled back into one another. Ed massaged her back and concluded that his new favorite thing was kissing Olivia Benson.

It was verging on getting out of control. She placed her hands on his chest and reluctantly traded the feel of his lips for the sensation of his forehead against hers. They took deep breaths, calming down, silently acknowledging this was the proper course of action but also wishing they were each a bit reckless. He wanted her. She wanted him.

But those desires would have to wait.

Still merely inches apart, Ed grazed her cheek with his thumb and, in a deep, raspy tone tinged with arousal, he shyly admitted, "Been wantin' to do that for a while."

A languid smile flooded her face and she bit her lip, "I'm glad you finally got the chance."

He'd never seen her eyes more alive. Ed Tucker had always thought Olivia Benson was attractive, but the kiss served to enhance all her facial features—deep brown eyes, her sharp jaw, the freckles, _those lips_.

"Me too," he replied, adding, " _Obviously_."

She grinned. "Well…thank you for dinner."

He squeezed her hand. "Anytime."

Another smile.

"You know that, right?"

"Should I?" She asked softly, cocking the eyebrow again and not doing a very good job of making him welcome to leave.

He smirked but didn't verbally answer. He still had a grip on her hand and he brought it to his lips, kissed it, and told her he hoped her Saturday would not keep her from Manhattan too long.

…

Tucker had to wait an excruciatingly long week before seeing her again. He appreciated that she kept in touch during the hunt for Yates and Rudnick, but there was no time for any type of rendezvous, especially since Olivia had to spend a couple of nights in Chicago. Upon returning she took a few days off and spent them entirely on Noah.

But she was getting impatient.

With Lucy in the midst of another well-deserved break, Olivia faced a dilemma. Wait another few days to see Tucker, or submit to her yearning and invite him over? If she did invite him over, should it be later, after Noah was asleep, or would it be a step in the right direction to suggest he come earlier? Dinner? Or just drinks?

She bounced Noah on her knees and kissed his cheeks. "Should we invite Tucker for pizza tonight, sweet boy?"

The "Tucker" part of her question didn't quite register with the toddler. Noah exclaimed, "Pizza!"

"Okay then," Olivia said with finality, "We'll see if he wants to come."

Tucker offered to pick up dinner on the way over and he arrived with his hands full—a package of cookies, a six pack of beer, and, of course, the pizza. Olivia ushered him in and they unloaded everything on the counter while Noah looked on curiously.

"Noah," Olivia said gently, "This is Tucker."

Tucker almost said "call me Ed" but instead crouched down to the little boy's eye level and smiled. "Hey there Noah."

Noah rushed to his mother's side.

"It's okay, sweet boy," Olivia said, picking him up and kissing the side of his head. "Tucker brought us pizza and he's going to eat with us, okay!"

Ed fished around in his coat pocket and produced a toy NYPD cruiser. "Here, pal. I brought this for ya. I've had it forever and thought you might use it more than I do."

Noah owned several similar toys, but he welcomed the new addition. Car in hand, he wriggled out of Olivia's grasp and rushed to his toy box. He returned with two other cars—another cruiser and a taxi—and handed them to Ed.

"Wow!" He exclaimed gently, "These are nice. I figured you had some other cars."

From there, the ice quickly melted. Noah continued bringing toys to Ed, and he examined each one with interest. At one point, Noah took Ed by the hand and led him to the floor in front of the television where he had an assortment of Duplo and wooden blocks and the two of them worked on constructing a tower until Olivia announced it was time to eat.

Avoiding formality, they ate their pizza in the kitchen and made small talk but mostly concentrated on Noah—cutting him more pieces and handing him his milk—and Ed became a permanent hero when he presented Noah with one of the chocolate chip cookies. A little while later, Olivia left Ed alone in the living room so she could put Noah to bed. She returned to a clean kitchen and a freshly poured bourbon.

"I, uh, thought ya might be sick of the beer."

"Thank you," Olivia replied, gently touching her glass to his. "Cheers."

"Cheers."

They sat in the exact spots they'd occupied a week ago and Tucker couldn't help but ask about the events of the past week. There was no sense in avoiding it. Her job was a part of _her,_ and he understood the all-consuming nature of the NYPD better than anybody.

He was not prepared for her full disclosure.

It all came out—her rage when she found out Bronwyn was involved in the escape, and the reoccurrence of Lewis-related flashbacks, his scarred face, her time as his hostage, the granary—and, oddly enough, while she vented and spewed all of these horrific details she lost herself in Ed's understanding, compassionate gaze, and by the time she got to Yates' death and the drinks with Erin Lindsay, they were sitting face-to-face, knees touching, and Ed held Olivia's hands.

"I'm sorry," she said, twitching her head a little to get a strand of hair out of her eyes, "I, uh…that was a little much. I guess I….I needed to get all that out."

"Feel better?"

"I do." It wasn't a gratuitous reply. She hadn't realized how much she'd been weighed down by the week's frustrations. "Still, um, I didn't mean to—"

He tightened his hold on her hands and leaned forward and asked again, more slowly, "Do you feel better?"

"Yes," she replied in a whisper, forcing herself to look him in the eyes, fighting back the impending tears.

"Good," he murmured.

"Good?"

"Yeah." He inched closer and kissed her, his lips grazing hers ever so slightly. "Good. You…you make me feel good, Olivia. Being with you…nights like this…they make me happy."

"Me too," she croaked.

"So maybe…" he ran his hands up and down her forearms, "Let's have more of 'em, huh?"

"Okay," she agreed heartily, "I'd like that."

…..

#Tuckson


End file.
